I can't remember the bit or show but I remember a scene where someone says that they hate when people talk about their dreams. Its boring. It's not a nice scene. It stuck with me because I resist it albeit I always find it a good catalyst to blog. Talking about dreams that is. Even just typing down what you dreamt of before it is lost forever. A digital dream journal.
I had a recent one that stuck out because it staggered over several awakenings. I sleep in a herdy-gerdy style with 3 hours on then 15 minutes up then another 4 hours, etc. And this dream picked up where it left off as my subconscious slide it through the night. This never happens with good dreams mind you. Most of my dreams are heavy on the #fomo. Or end on cliffhangers
"Unsheaths sword...ok, let's go!....WAKE UP!"
"The paperwork has cleared and you are now the owner of...WAKE UP"
"The mobile suit powers on, it's eyes glowing ready...WAKE UP,
"Oh, let me bend and snap to pick up this shiny penny...WAKE UP"
This all reads quite hackneyed. The worlds lamest collection of choose your own adventure endings.
In this running dream I'm at work but typical to these scenarios its not my building. Instead work is a giant corporate/airport style food court or grand atrium. Lots of glass up in angles and shiny chrome framing. Exposed ventilation high up in the ceilings and sealed marble floors in alternating swaths of white and emerald.
And my coworkers are working at short satiny chrome cafe tables with neat folding chairs. Everyone sits at one table, some stacks of paper on some and laptops on others. This sounds sad but it's a serene and copacetic scene. People mill about and chat. They seem to get things done. And don't worry everyone is wearing clothes! Most importantly me! Not that hackneyed! ;-)
Save for me. In the dream I am hustling from end to end of this airport terminal acting as an office trying to fix a copier. Which is something I unofficially do at work. And I forgot the toner and I need to blast across the floor. Oh, and then its something with the staples and fuck those are in another closet! If we even have spares. And I shuffle to and fro mumbling to myself, head down and playing our whole convos in my head even pantomining gestures. Practicing my "No, I don't know why it won't work!"
Maybe im manic because outside it feels like a coup is happening. It like the airport scene in Congo (remember that movie!?) except with much less Ernie Hudson. Actually none.
Helicopters buzz. Cars turf lawns as they zip across streets and parks. A group of 4 guys rappel down the crystal walls and rushes into a playground. Everyone lools very official and war ready and im inside wearing khakis. The world outside looks exactly like the area around my work. And no one inside looks up from their serene tables. Mind that no one outside is trying to get in but our location is the hub for all this.
And the rest of the dream is the hum of all this zipping about.
What does it mean? Because my subconscious serialized it over an evening.
Is it...a comment on what I can and cannot control?
A bad omen?
Mentall chaff from those weird tactical gear ads I see? You look into buying one set of kevlar arm sleeves and people think your masculinity is so frgaile you get ads for tactical hearing aids.
Just a dream?
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